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The bustling market on Nevarro city has become your reluctant home. The occupation you’ve adopted as a merchant saved you from a great amount of suspicion and turmoil when you first arrived, allowing yourself to blend into the general populace with ease. A rock-solid alias in an ever changing galaxy was all the cover you needed as you adjusted to this new norm. Long departed from the Jedi temples, you were sent to a distant planet to fulfill your final test in order to graduate further in your training from Padawan to the esteemed level of Jedi Knight.
Until the unspeakable happened.
The target you were sent to detain was nowhere to be found. The instructions were so vague and you were only given coordinates and the license to use lethal force if necessary. The only description of their appearance was that of an shiny imperial broach fancily pinned to their lapel. Regardless, you risked failure if you couldn’t locate this person of interest. In a burst of frustration, you find yourself walking into a nearby pub to regain your bearings and evaluate your plan of action when a dreadful weight pulls you down and causes you to collapse just outside the entrance.
“Looks like someone’s tying one off already! Hahaha!” a nearby voice shouts at you on his way out of the establishment, sly and provocative, implying that you’re just another drunk sauntering through the masses. It felt like your wind got knocked out. You needed to get inside. Drink something. Catch your breath. Upon entry, the ambiance was tragically bleak. This was a place of ill repute and it was as quiet as a chapel. Something wasn’t right.
With the wave of your hand you summon the bartender to give you refreshment. As you sip, you can’t help but overhear a hushed conversation regarding the bantha in the room.
“I heard they were conspiring against the chancellor. He ordered a hit on the jedi.” a nameless patron confessed.
“Which jedi?” another voice asked.
“ALL of ‘em.”
A soft thud followed by a high pitched “oof!” from the ground close by pulls you from your head. You don’t have the privilege to waste time dwelling on the past. Blinking the haze away, a tiny child has come into view beside your stall as he struggles to stand back up from the beaten pavement in order to follow closely behind his family, bobbing and weaving through the congested crowd. The haste in his movements causes a small trooper doll to slip from the confines of his rucksack. His fight against the wall of adults that block his path gives you enough time to concentrate on the doll, envision it’s snug reunion with the young boy’s luggage and open your eyes just as you fasten it back into place. Nodding to yourself for another good deed, you’re taken aback by a very strange looking customer.
From head to toe he donned numerous plates of plastoid armor with several satchels and utility compartments strapped to his appendages. It’s a wonder how you didn’t hear him coming.
“Curious. I thought they were all dead.” He strokes his chin while looking at you with widened eyes behind his lemon lenses. He didn’t happen to see that… did he?
“Uh… thought who were all dead?” you ask, praying to yourself he wouldn’t speak that forbidden word aloud. Especially not here.
“Why, the jedi of course. That’s what you are, aren’t you?” He courteously lowered his voice, seemingly aware of the high stakes that came with an announcement like that. You shouldn’t have done something so careless, this very different clone trooper looked like he could turn you in if he wanted. Maybe you could set up shop in the next system over, a clean slate with a new name and workplace. You had to get out of here.
“Oh, sorry. We’re closed for the day! Come back tomorrow!” You slam the shutters on the kiosk before gathering your belongings and making a run for the alleyways.
“Stop! Wait!” he calls out to you but you’re already long gone. The alley is dark and narrow with the odd opening into the plaza every few meters. You’re searching for a worthy exit point until you spot one. Pushing yourself at full throttle, you make a bee line for the archway only to clash into something that was not previously there. The abrupt impact makes you fall flat on your back, personal effects scattering across the ground. No… It was him.
“My humblest apologies, but I had to get you to stop running somehow. I didn’t mean to scare you… You can call me Tech.” He reaches a hand out to you in hopes that you take it but you’re paralyzed with fright, unable to speak. He kneels down to meet your eye level, studying you thoroughly until his gaze drifts behind you and lands on your disassembled lightsaber fragments. To the untrained eye, they were simply metal chips and tangled wires, easier to hide when the pieces were smaller than a gobbet of fruit. But to this mysterious man, they stuck out like a sore thumb.
“You’re exactly what I think you are.” He whispers in bewilderment before pointing to the pile of detritus. “That’s a lightsaber, isn’t it?”
Panic sets in and you’re scrambling to gather your things, putting distance between you and this… Tech. “Please! Don’t turn me in! They’ll kill me!”
“You misunderstand! I’m not like the others. I’m on your side.” Still on his knees, he maneuvers closer as you recoil into a darkened corner with everything back in your satchel. Life on the run has taught you to keep your guard up at all costs and to never let anyone take you for granted. Sadly you’re butchering the first vow you’ve made to yourself and you hope you don’t break any more. Although, what was that he said about ‘the others’? Was this clone really a deviant? Like you?
“I’m no jedi if that’s what you’re wondering. Even if you tried to turn me in, I would just deny it. You can’t prove anything!” behaving like a rabid animal, you’re far more bark than bite but it doesn’t phase him at all. He’s actually rather amused with your defensive measures.
“I don’t think just anyone can do what you did back there at your kiosk. The child? And his little trooper toy?” he smiles, mind wandering back to the warm, anonymous token you displayed without thought, like a reflex. Your kind heart just couldn’t resist doing something so mundane, no matter the possible repercussions. A child’s smile outweighed any modicum of logic because in that moment you saw yourself in that little boy, full of optimism that life had given you no reason to hate it yet. “You have to be a jedi-”
“I’m not.” you interrupt. “At least… I never wanted to be.” The confession hurts more now that you’ve actually said it. An inner battle you’ve constantly fought with yourself over is finally established by the improvised verbalization to this person you just met.
“I’m afraid I don’t follow. That is a disassembled lightsaber in your satchel, is it not?” Tech was mentally disarming you and you were already caught without a weapon.
“It is.” you sigh in defeat. “You could probably guess why I keep it like that, but how were you able to decipher that so quickly?” you ask while still shrinking further into yourself.
“I used to fight in the Grand Army of the Republic. Well… when it was still…” he trails off, seemingly unable to finish his statement. You know all too well, the sensation of the fall. This clone, far from force sensitivity, was not exempt from the emptiness the galaxy felt when the systematic termination of the jedi was enacted. “I promise, I’m not going to hurt you. Truth be told… I’d like to get to know you. Help if I can.”
He was there. He survived. You’ve never met anyone who willingly retained any proof of their involvement with The Order. You might be able to trust this person after all, but you had to prove to him that you weren’t helpless. The first specks of light are peeking through the fog and trees of your psyche and you refuse to fall back into darkness before ever seeing the next sun. “I’m not some damsel for you to rescue. I was doing just fine before you almost blew my cover back there.”
“Assumptions are only validated as fact if you raise suspicion by acting guilty.” This man definitely has a way with words as well as strategy, speaking the truth in that aspect. You could have just as easily denied him like you threatened to deny the authorities. Why did you run?
“Welp… you got me there. I probably shouldn’t have bolted like that…” In hindsight, it was an extremely ill-advised evasion tactic that would have definitely cost you your life had the interaction not been this lucky.
“Now please. The ground doesn’t look very comfortable.” Still kneeling, he inches closer to you with his outstretched arms and you notice the packed soil caking up and staining your robes but he couldn’t care less. His hands… they look so safe as they reach for you. To be encapsulated by his grasp would be a feeling of inclusion you’ve been longing for. How could you ever think he was an instrument to conduct heinous war crimes? You shouldn’t have ever judged this book by his cover but the appearance really is misleading no matter how unique it is.
“Okay… Thank you- uhm… Tech.” That name was authentic. Reliable. He didn’t hide a thing from you even down to his moniker. His grip on your palms is firm and comfortable as he lifts you to your feet, even going the extra mile of dusting the grime from your clothes. Now that you were standing up straight you could finally see him entirely. He was tall. Very tall. This peculiar intimidation is much more complicated than the waning fear you were previously experiencing. A blush formed on your cheeks from out of nowhere and you instantly drop your head to hide it. The light is dim in the alleyway. Surely he didn’t see it.
“My stars… you look flushed. Are you alright? Lightheaded? Let’s get you something to eat. You need to sit.” His arm coils around your shoulders as he pulls you snug to his chest plate. “My apologies for the overexertion on your part. I was a revolting exasperation of that, I am sure…” The blush that announced itself at such an untimely manner was derivative of his handsome proximity, lying to yourself that you were deficient in any way.
But he didn’t have to know that.
“Uh… ye-yeah. I think I just got up too fast. It’s nothing-” you begin, but he has other plans.
“I insist. It’s the least I could do for making you close up shop early. I really didn’t mean to scare you. You’re not the first person to run from us like that so… I understand.” He doesn’t mean… How close did he really witness the fall? And what did he mean by ‘us’? You found out what happened long after the fact on the whispering winds of rumors. Wondering what he may have seen, you take him up on his offer.
———————————————————————————————-
Over the many years that you’ve been in hiding on Nevarro, you’ve never been to this tavern in particular. It looked increasingly upper-class for your tastes. Not exactly low profile for two republic deserters. Insufficient funds blared like an alarm in the back of your head. You couldn’t afford a single thing on this menu, not while rationing your currency long enough to live off it. Times were tough as you hopped from one odd job to the next until finally landing the plushest position you could ask for; and beggars certainly couldn’t be choosers. The ignominy of having this person who you’ve only just met buy you a meal, let alone the first thing you’ve eaten this impossibly long day, it blanketed over you like a thick slime, weighing you down with it’s shame. You didn’t belong here. Why would he bring you here? Was he trying to torture you?
Finally sitting across from each other at the candle lit table, an enthusiastic waiter droid comes to load you both up with hors d'oeuvres, asking what you would like to drink. Truthfully, you couldn’t put your finger on anything on the menu, like staring at a foreign language. In a bout of panic, you fell silent but immediately calmed when you heard Tech begin the order. “Two Moogan Teas. Heavy on the syrup, please. She’ll have the Nuna and Dumplings soup. Nothing for me, thank you.” Moogan Tea? Nuna and Dumplings? You’ve only ever eaten their deep fried legs, a fast and affordable street food, but forget about having the luxury of drinking anything other than poorly purified water and the occasional alcoholic beverage.
“I’ll be back with that.” The waiter replies after tapping the order into his built-in data pad.
“You’re not having anything?” An honest question, feeling out of place that you’ll be the only one eating.
“Oh, I’ve had plenty today, believe me. This is about you.” Tech nods nonchalantly, unaware of what his confirmation does to you, how it makes you flutter, unable to maintain your patience to try this meal, hand picked just for you. “I always get the soup here, you’ll quite like it, I’m sure. You look half starved and it’s very hearty and filling. Just what you need.” This clone has demonstrated an overwhelming amount of kindness with no obligation at all other than the fact that he wants to see you safe and sound with a full belly.
Feeling parched, your condition can finally be evaluated more thoroughly now that you’re no longer running for your life. You reach for the decanter of crystal clear water, condensation beading along the exterior causes the heavy container to slip from your grasp as you struggle to hold onto it, tipping slightly in Tech’s direction. In an agile set of movements, he stops the decanter from spilling over with a black blur of his gloves. Those protective hands have now found a home atop your own, holding the water steady on the table. Together.
With locked eyes and a swift breath escaping from each end of the table, all four palms have retracted back like the snap of an elastic cord. You take the napkin that is neatly folded on your plate to dry your hands off, a bit of the dirt making an appearance on the bleached white cloth as the moisture helped to somewhat give them a makeshift wash. You covertly hide the blemished napkin on your lap, face drooping in that direction as well.
“Are you- erm… would you like some water before the teas get here?” Tech asks, firm grip on the handle of the decanter. The first break in his composure causes him to falter in his speech, trying to find the correct words to proceed. He had just helped you up from the ground moments ago. Why was he acting as if you’ve never touched hands before now? Why did this quaint setting cause a rift in the exchange?
“Yes please, if you don’t mind. That run earlier kind of got the better of me…” you shrug timidly as he generously pours the cleanest glass of water you’ve ever had the privilege of sipping. It wasn’t that water was hard to come by, but life on your own proved you didn’t have enough credits to splurge on a private water purifier, having to use the communal one in the village. Often times the filters were less than stellar or frequent use would dirty the apparatus more often. Without thinking, you down the entire glass of water in no time, gasping at it’s fulfilling refreshment.
“Excuse me! That wasn’t very- gah! I’m sorry…” Pushing the glass away, you sink down further into your seat.
“Given what I’ve just put you through, it would be beneficial for you to have the entire pitcher before we leave. Dehydration would cause a great deal of discomfort in the long run.” Tech matter-of-factly states, refilling your glass to the brim just as the waiter droid effortlessly hovers back to the table with your food and drinks. The tea is iced to your surprise, clinking in the glass when it’s set down with a gradient of tera cotta fading upward into a pleasant and milky froth, assuming that’s the syrup he was talking about. The soup had a heavenly aroma balanced with vegetables, peppers and seasoned to perfection with dumplings and nuna morsels that looked plump and bountiful. Tech wasn’t lying when he described it’s hearty nature.
Saliva filling your mouth at an alarming rate, you excitedly gulp so that you don’t drool all over yourself, painfully eager to try this medley. The only thing stopping you is the boiling hot contrast between this soup and iced tea, bubbles creeping up to the rim of the bowl. Lifting your gaze, Tech is caught studying you again with an attentive look on his face, giving his tea a stir into a homogeneous mixture. Oh, that’s right. The tea.
“What kind of tea is this?” you ask, mirroring his movements in stirring your own beverage, a harmony of clinks emitting from the chalices.
“It’s a kind of spiced tea with calming herbs. The syrup is what provides it’s heat. The fluffed cream gives it a sweet vehicle to travel on. It can be served hot or cold, but I always found the distinction to be authentic and paired better with warm cuisine. Give it a try.” he nods with a flourish of his hand.
Palate now cleansed by your water, the flavor bombarded your senses with a satisfying kick, leaving a balmy and soothing aftertaste from the cream. Blinking sporadically, you lick your lips so that not a single remnant is wasted, not even on your features. Tech lets out a humble chuckle, amused by your earnest reception of this culinary adventure and also pleased to see you enjoy his recommendation just as much as he does. “It’s delicious, isn’t it?”
Nodding, you sample another taste with a blissful sigh. “I’ve never had anything like this before. When you said tea this is not what I was expecting.”
“It’s an acquired taste. Not everyone prefers it over traditional beverages. Now would be a perfect time to have a sip of that broth. I’m sure it’s cooled down by now.” Tech preferred the finer things, that was obvious, but he is also very inclusive. He gave off the impression that he wanted you to learn more about himself by sharing every aspect of his own personal preferences.
Taking the spoon in your hand, you swirl it in the bowl as the garnish dances betwixt an array of dumplings and poultry. Bringing the utensil closer to your mouth, you blow on the serving you’re about to imbibe for good measure before taking it into your mouth.
Tech was right. The flavorsome pairing is now forever associated with the captivating clone sitting across the way from you. The meat was tender and juicy, dumplings cooked to excellence and the vegetables practically fell apart against your teeth. All of your anxious worry floating away like the steam in your bowl as you filled your shriveled stomach with immense nourishment, consuming more than half the stew. Amidst the tranquil supper, a darkened shroud of paranoia creeped from the depths of your mind. It beckoned the question: what’s the catch?
Dropping the spoon into the near-empty bowl, Tech tilts his head at you with unease. “You don’t… like it?”
“Oh, but I do! Very much so. It’s the best thing I’ve ever had, actually. It’s just-” looking into the dish before you, you’re disquieted by the bluntness of your next question, but you have to ask it. “Why are you doing this? What do you want from me?”
Tech’s angular face shifts into a downcast grin, eyelids drifting closed as he accepts the harshness of your reality. He’s not hurt by the inquiry, but rather that you assumed he has any ulterior motives on his agenda.
Tech sets his glass down and interlocks his fingers on his placemat, a look of seriousness seeping into his face before addressing your question. “Companionship, if you will be so generous. Your history. I wish to know where you come from and why you ran. I wish to help you feel safe so that you’ll never feel the need to run again.”
No one has ever had the interest nor the patience to ask you about yourself. You don’t even know where to begin, thinking back to the series of unfortunate events that took place over the years. Perhaps why you ran would be a good starting point.
“Well, I know you saw the contents of my satchel and you look like an incredibly smart individual. You can do the math.” Tech nods, reaffirming his full attention remains on you. Lowering your voice to a discreet tone, you begin to unfurl the distasteful details that brought about your aversion to clones.
“I was- erm… I guess I still am? I don’t know- but anyway, I was on my last field mission in my Padawan training before becoming a Jedi when ‘you know what’ happened. I immediately had to go into hiding. Find work when I could to keep myself alive. When the troopers started rounding people up for suspicion and conspiracy I had to start over from planet to planet until I made it here, to the Outer Rim. I wasn’t going to stick around long enough to find out what happened to those who got turned in. My guess is nothing good because this weight just keeps getting heavier and heavier.” your left hand raises to massage the peak of your nose, loosening the tension headache from every soul that’s passed beyond the veil, every drop in a thunderous waterfall. “Nevarro has had its ups and downs but I’ve felt safer here, and for longer, than anywhere else I’ve been. And I’ve been everywhere.”
Folding your arms in a defensive position, Tech winces at your hardened demeanor, all seriousness melting into a mask of animosity at the description of your hardships. He could be the flare you’ve always needed in order to finally find a way back to solace.
“When you pointed out what I did for that child in the marketplace… I was afraid you would turn me in too. That’s why I ran. I’ve made it this far and I was prepared to drop everything but the clothes on my back if it meant another day that I see the sun rise.” Nervously consuming the remainder of your dish, it signifies the end of your statement, warranting a response from your mindful chaperone.
“We were all there, my whole squadron. What you saw was the result of mass mind control, to put it plainly. There is a chip implanted within us at creation, though we had ours removed.” Tech rotates his head and pulls back a few locks of hair to reveal his scar. “We aren’t like other clones and at first I assumed our deviant nature was the culprit to blame for the chip’s ineffectiveness but it was still activated in two of us before we managed to conduct the operations. Don’t worry. Our brain waves are more alike than that of any manufactured clone you’ve ever crossed paths with.”
Tech falters, feeling the gravity of what he’s about to say crush his heart to rubble. He didn’t know the extent of your knowledge of these inhibitor chips, their functions, or even the life changing order that caused the fall of the former galactic governmental structure.
“We were commissioned to execute the Jedi for treason. Specifically, for an assassination attempt against the Chancellor, turned Emperor. All of which is grotesquely nonfactual. So when I saw you perform in such a way at the market, I only wanted to keep you safe. We’re both deserters and the Empire doesn’t treat either of us too kindly.” Tech reaches his hand out to you from across the table, the flicker of light painting his armor in a radiant glow that brilliantly illuminated your side of the table with it’s refraction. “We have to stick together.”
A quick scan of the room reveals that most of the staff and patrons have vacated the premises, leaving you unexpectedly alone with your… dinner date? Is that what this is? A mental evaluation dictates you’re beyond relaxed. A physical evaluation proves that the eternal knot in your stomach has finally disappeared. If this is how you felt when you were around him, you never wanted it to end. You silently hope that his extension of hospitality went beyond a common recruitment, and that your feelings were reciprocated. After careful consideration, you accept his peaceful gesture.
“I’m glad they sent me to the market this time. I already made one trip for supplies and food. This time I was merely observing. You caught my attention long before I saw your little stunt. Forgive me… but it looked like whatever you were pondering about evoked a bit of emotion from you. The lament in your reaction is what piqued my interest, but seeing your abilities as well as your heart displayed upon your sleeve had decided things for me. Wholesome events are few and far between and we could really use any glimmer of hope we can get.”
Just as you’ve been comparing his likeness to a beacon that slices its way through the darkness, he viewed you in the exact same regards. Tech shuffles with his grip on you, admiring every square inch of your skin before giving your hands a firm squeeze. “You’re not alone anymore and a title is just that. You’ve survived the ultimate test of all and will always be considered a Jedi from my perspective.”
Validation is all you needed and Tech provided more than enough for aeons. It takes incredible strength to lead with the heart and not the mind. There is no chaos, only harmony and you have finally found it.
“Thank you for clarifying all that. You’ve brought me out of a dark place,” you chuckle, “literally and figuratively!”
“You’re really quite welcome. I was only stating the obvious.” He laughs with you, admiring the curl of your smile and sound of your amusement. “The others would love to welcome you. We can take the tea along. I was planning on bringing one for myself when the waiter came back. I do love that tea…”
A growing admiration was blooming in your heart for a lot more than just the brew.
Tech orders a couple fresh Moogan Teas to-go before paying the bill and walking you outside into the crisp air of the night, sun having fallen fast due to it’s distance from the outskirts of this system. He wasn’t putting on airs, by any means. He was treating himself, and you, to the luxuries he partakes in only once in a blue moon. He understands the priority of rationing and the importance that came with conserving his currency. But to him, this was a special occasion.
A massive ship came into view. Much larger than any common yacht or speeder utilized in town; heavily protected, armed to the teeth and fit for interstellar travel. You’ve compressed the bare essentials from your kiosk into a wagon for transport that Tech has calibrated with his personal data pad to follow you to your destination, setting your cups atop it’s cargo. Knowing you have plenty of merchandize that you can now convert to personal use, you plan to distribute it at length amongst these newfound associates.
The dusk in the sky resembles a purple hued canopy with little punctured holes, letting in ray upon ray of glorious light. The night sky never looked so beautiful to you. Suddenly, something brushed against your knuckles. You’re paying too much attention to the surroundings, you didn’t notice Tech begging for your touch. It stopped you dead in your tracks as his gloved fingers slowly crept upon you like vines, getting interwoven with your own.
Turning to look at your joined hands, he raises his other palm to meet your face, eyes as wide as the moon above you, looking upon you with grandiose fondness. “I wanted to do this before we got to close for them to see. I’d hate for anyone to ruin the moment…”
Tech lowers his face to meet yours, first raising his arms to press himself against you in an exclusive embrace, breathing in your essence before pulling away to better assess your subdued idiosyncrasies in this obscure environment. He’s been successful in making your heart skip a multitude of beats today; initially with an unintended trepidation, next with an impromptu dinner arrangement, now lastly with this culmination of the day’s events. It proved that this was far more than a common recruitment.
Tech announced his unbridled feelings for you with every movement he made, but still unsure if he should seal his fate with a kiss upon your lips. Millimeters apart, he hovers above you, his scent of his breath still reminiscent of the spiced tea as it traveled on the evening air into your nostrils. Lifting yourself up on your tip-toes, you decide things for him, as he so eloquently phrased it, closing the gap between your mouths, sure and immovable. Tech receives you with enthusiasm, momentarily picking you up and off your feet so that you’re weightless, dangling in his arms. You giggle into his face with surprise at how soft yet confident he is at the same time. Foreheads resting on one another, your eyes remain locked even when your distant arrival has been announced by a curious and lively young girl.
“Hey, everyone! Tech is back! And he’s brought someone home!” she exclaims with joy as four other clones, each more notable than the last, follow her down the ramp out of the ship.
“A child?” you question in disbelief. These really were a completely different set of clones than you were used to.
“That’s Omega, our sister. She absolutely adores new people. You’ll get along just swimmingly. Come. Let’s meet the others.” With intertwined fingers, your relationship is broadcasted to the rest of his squad, earning a few grins of approval and a couple looks of shock. The supportive nature of this little family made you certain that if there was a home made special for you anywhere in the Galaxy, it was no longer behind a dusty stall. It remains with these friendly folk.